


Even In This Darkness (You Will See Me Thrive)

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Series: The Persephone Chalice [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: The Persephone Chalice falls into Josephine Harlow's hands, and she finds herself back into the age of piracy. She faces horrors that are unthinkable, and fights to survive in a world where the odds are set against her.She never imagined that love would blossom along the way, or that it would come in the form of Edward Kenway.





	Even In This Darkness (You Will See Me Thrive)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin’s Creed or its Characters. This is for amusement and for me to hone my writing skills, not for monetary profit.  
> I want to give a huge thanks for the kudos left on “Desert Rose (Learn To Love Again” and I hope that readers will enjoy the series! If you are new this series, after this one if you want please go check out Bayek and Raelyn’s one shot and leave some feedback! :D  
> WARNING: I do bring up the topic of racism and slavery in this story which may be uncomfortable for some (well, actually it should be uncomfortable to all people because racism and slavery are WRONG, no and if or buts about it).   
> Inspired by the Song:  
> “Rise” by State of Mine  
> “Hold Me Down” by Hasley  
> “The Word I Couldn’t Keep” from Nancy Drew and the Sea of Darkness

Story Two 

“Even In This Darkness (You Will See Me Thrive)” 

a _One Shot_ in the _Persephone’s Chalice_ series

It had been a trial holding onto her humanity, Josephine Harlow came to the conclusion on the rocky shores of the ocean. Some days it was still a trial, she thought as she held the rope tightly in her hand and her caramel colored eyes peered out across the dark, choppy waters. Her dark ebony skin glittered with beads of sweat due to a hard day’s toil at the sea, and her curly locks were pulled back into a fierce bun on the back of her head. It had been three years since she had been unceremoniously dropped into the seventy hundred without so much as a warning. It all started when she went to her friend, Raelyn’s house. Raelyn and Josephine had been best friends since they were children, and sisters in everything but blood. So, Josephine knew when Raelyn hadn’t met her at the door that something had been seriously wrong. Raelyn was always an early bird, chirper and bright much to Josephine’s amazement and envy and would always have a brunch ready for them when she came over to visit. The silence had been scary, and when she went inside of the house only to find no trace of her cousin, she started to freak out. With cellphone in hand and ready to dial 911, Jospehine finally made it up to the attic—the last place she wanted to be, she knew how horror movies work, alright? 

And that’s when she found that stupid fucking old piece of shit cup. 

It was some family heirloom from what Josephine had remembered. Important and worth a lot of money, but no one had said the damned thing was cursed. She didn’t know what compelled her to pick it up, only that when she did, the next thing she knew that she had been dropped into the stormy seas. There had been thunder, lightning and waves. Her mind conjured up images of sharks and worse as she swam for her fucking life, and when dawn came, she awoke with a terrible migraine on a beach. It didn’t take her long to realize that she was way out of her depth and in serious trouble. And as if the universe wanted to have another laugh at her expense, she was found by slavers. 

Slavers! 

At first, she hadn’t understood what they were, but it became so horrifyingly apparent very quickly. She had faced racism in her life. She had dealt with people looking at her and her parents with scorn, and more than a handful of slurs sent her way. Her parents went out of their way to instill it in her head to be proud of who she was, what she looked like, and where she came from no matter what anyone else said. The world wasn’t perfect, and people could be vindictive in their ignorance and cruelty. Still she never imagined facing the same type of horror her great-grandmother Rhea had faced a little over a century ago. The trauma of what Josephine endured for those weeks in the slavers hands would be branded not only on her body, but her soul. It had changed her, and how she viewed the world around her. 

This barbaric time period—which in some ways was scarily similar to the modern world—had tried to convince her that she was little more than an object to serve whatever purpose others wished of her because of the dark color of her skin, and the fact she was a woman on top of that. The slavers had tried to strip her of her identity, her pride, everything she was to break her down into something less than human. But she dug her heels in deep, bore punishments that were given and when the ship had docked in the colonies—America before it was America—she had fought tooth and nail and by some miracle managed to escape. 

She had murdered someone, and broke the locks on the cages to let the others free, too. It had been one of the most horrific nights of her life. The gunfire, the blood, and then running into the woods without looking back at the burning village behind her because it she stopped to look back, part of her knew she would breakdown. She remembered the fear that burned through her from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes, and even when she grew tired, she somehow found it inside of her to keep pushing onward. 

By the end of it, her feet were bloody and bleeding. Her muscles felt like overdone noodles, weak and useless. Exhaustion had her crumbling to her knees, and she curled underneath a nearby tree and fell into oblivion. It had been a torturous time in her life, one where every second seemed uncertain and she was literally waiting to be lynched or worse. It was a rouge land, with no real set laws and even if there had been, it would have been nothing in her favor. 

She was more likely to be sold back into slavery, or hanged than to find any compassionate soul willingly to help her out. She couldn’t stay in a place for long, thanking her stars that her grandfather had been a survivalist and had taught her how to scavenge for food and make a fire. Nightmares plagued her almost every night. Brutal hands clawing at her skin, and hurting her in the worst ways that a person could be hurt. The angry crack of a whip before it splintered down her spine, and she would wake up with a scream wedged painfully in the back of her throat. She had cried more tears than she thought imaginable over the cold world her life had been wheedled down to, and at one point, nothing seemed like it would ever be right again. 

A year had passed before her scavenging across the lands. She made friends with a local Yamasee tribe, who taught her about medicinal herbs after she saved a young child from drowning. The natives were much more gracious to her than the settlers. She sadly did not stay for long with them, having been given an opportunity to travel on a ship travelling to Nassau. If there was one place where she could live free it was there, and she couldn’t pass up the chance to find some solace in this world. She had become good friends with a local woman in Charles Town named Virginia Holt, the only settler to look at her with kindness and as an equal. Virginia—who was only sixteen year old—wanted to escape her life as a wife to abusive drunken man who was more than twice her age, and knew enough about sailing from her father for them to make a daring attempt. 

With several others, they formed a group of misfits that were bound together by the need to be free from the chains that would be foisted upon them by society, and so in the dead of night, they paid the tavern owner to keep the sailors happily drunk then set aflame Virginia’s home to fake her “death” before stealing a ship in the harbor. 

The sail to Nassau had been harrowing. Storms battered them, tempers flared from time to time, the constant worry of pursuit, and let’s not forget that sea sickness was a feisty bitch. But the dawn would always come the very next day, and Josephine had managed to survive whatever came her way. She survived torture and rape at the hands of slavers, she had survived the hostile wilds of America, and she still stood tall with her chin raised high. She would be damned if she allowed a person to steal who she was, and try to break her spirit. The crew they had settled into Nassau. Virginia had found her place, and was now running a tavern. (Rumors were that Virginia had managed to capture the attention of the famous pirate named James Kidd, last that she heard.) Some of them became pirates, and others found local jobs to satisfy them given far more opportunities than the colonies had. 

Josephine…well, she just wasn’t satisfied. Sure, Nassau provided safety that she had not had in a while, but she just couldn’t sit by and allow people to be hurt like she had been. Children, women, and men would be forced into slavery in one way or another, and knowing that, how could she turn a blind eye? But she wasn’t sure what she could accomplish alone. 

And then Edward Kenway came into her life. 

He had come in guns blazing with a devil may care attitude and rakish smile, making no apologizes about the chaos he sowed in his wake. If Josephine believed in love at first sight, she would have thought her thoroughly swept off her feet in a split second flat. His roguish accent that made her toes curl didn’t hurt his sex appeal. Virginia had told her that if she wanted to make a difference, then her best bet was to work with the Captain of the Jackdaw. 

Josephine was skeptical, at first despite all his charm. She was skeptical of any and all men in this time. Women were considered vessels for men’s pleasure, and hardly anything more. Nobles bartered off their daughters for wealth and prestige, not unlike how one sold a cattle. The poor sods she had seen marry for love were the poor honest folk, who lives were fleeting and uncertain with disease and danger around every corner. So she treated him cautiously at first wondering just what he got out of saving people and killing villains. The turning point for her had been when the pair had bumped into each during a slavers raid on a nearby town. 

_The scent of death and ashes perfumed her nose. Josephine knew she should not be here, but when Virginia had told her of what she overhead in the tavern, she knew she could not allow this to happen. The memories of her own torment boiled white hot in her mind, never letting go and never ceasing. A need for justice and revenge sliced through her blood like as if she had been hit by a bolt of lightning. She pulled free the blade she had buried in the slavers body. One of the first things she had done when she had set foot in Nassau was learn how to fight and defend herself._

_She would never be helpless ever again._

_People were screaming. The sound of a whip cracking through the air made her grit together, as the slavers tried to keep the poor souls they had captured into the rusty cells while others tried to put out the fire that she had intentionally started in the barn. She rushed through the smoke, slicing down enemies never knowing that a shadow followed her from above._

_The cacophony of battle rang in her ears; the clash of steel, the screams of fright and the thunderous sound of gun fire. She moved like a force of nature, not allowing her enemies to gain the upper hand and inside of her heart, the notion that she would not die without killing as many as she could already set in stone. There was a loud blast so close to her ear when arms wrapped around her, and pulled her out of the line of gunfire. She wretched herself free and swung her blade, only for it to clash against none other than Edward Kenway’s. The pirate kept his focus on her, even as his free hand drew his pistol and shot down the slaver that attempted to stab in the back._

_His bright blue eyes clashed with her dark ones, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. The two joined forces against the slavers, slaughtering every last one of them. The last slaver’s scream was silenced by a sword, and the people were freed from their shackles. Josephine tended to the wounded and battered, using the best of her knowledge to aid them. Her dark eyes flickered across the camp where Edward knelt down, whispering gentle to a group of children. A toddler—whose parents had been killed in the madness—sobbed, uncontrollably; the baby just didn’t understand, and it broke Josephine’s heart anew._

_She watched in shock, when Edward wrapped the child in his arm. And he cradled the crying boy, whispering soothing words of comfort while his hand rubbed circles on the toddler’s back. There was no pretense, no falsehood for his actions, and Josephine realized that Edward Kenway_ cared. _Despite him being a pirate and claiming to have loose morals, he had a bleeding heart beneath his tough guy act. He genuinely cared for the people’s suffering, and Josephine knew in that moment that this was a man that she could follow to the end of the world and back._

Joining the crew of the Jackdaw had been eventful. Many superstitious about women being bad luck for ships and stuff floated around. Josephine didn’t put up with the nonsense stating that those legends were likely spread to keep women from running away from unsatisfactory marriages and men with tiny dicks. Her crude humor broke the ice with many of the crew, and her hard work endeared her to the rest. Soon they stopped seeing her as a “woman”, and as a crew member. If a new crew member tried to take a cheap shot at her or make a pass at her, they were immediately taken down a peg or two by the rest of the crew. She had a feeling a lot of them saw her as a little sister or sibling they never had by this point. 

The stars twinkled madly overhead, and she enjoyed her bit of solitude. Most of the crew was down below, sleeping away. The ocean’s waves scented the air with the smell of salt and she breathed it in deeply. “A foreign shore behind me and a hundred more to go,” she sang underneath her breath, recalling the song from the depths of her memory. It was from a Nancy Drew book of all things, the series had been one of her favorites and the song had never felt more appropriate than now. “On stormy seas and starless nights, caught on a cold wind’s blow…So many years have put my battered bow up to the test, a long forgotten promise, coming home at last to rest.” 

Her hand ran along the railing of the ship, her footsteps silent and soundless as she padded across the ship. “For even in this darkness, something calls for me to find, and cities may all turn to ash, and stone walls fall to time,” she continued, her heart aching inside of her chest. The mark on her wrist, interconnecting circles that looked like some ancient alien language, prickled uneasily. She had enjoyed her time on this ship, given purpose to save lives and bask in freedom. Now it felt like everything was going to change. “My love still lies there buried, under silence ice in sleep. A grave left unattended by the word I wouldn’t keep.” 

Edward had the same mark. A mark that seemed to complicate the friendship they had built over the years. The moment he had touched it—Josephine shook her head, knowing she couldn’t give those thoughts life. The emotions and desires that touch awoke could never come to be. She had heard whispers that Edward was a married man, and she wouldn’t be a place holder. She deserved better than that, so whatever this mystical birth mark they shared would mean nothing. “I stole you from another, but you knew I’d leave some day. I felt the tide pull on my bones, told you I couldn’t stay. I made a bet that I’d return and someday soon I will. And though I’m many years too late, I hope you’ve waited still.” 

Josephine could make out his form, just behind the wheel and the sight of him tugged on her heartstrings. If she were honest, she had fallen in love with Edward before they knew about the marks. (She had always kept her mark covered up, and he had down the same. It had been pure happenstance that they had found out, and she wished she could take that moment back.) He was just had this pure outlook on life, this code that he lived by, and there was something beautiful in that. He was passionate about everything he set his heart on, and there was no greater love for him than the open sea. 

He had given her so much in her time on the Jackdaw. A family, a place to call home, and a way of life that made her realize how hollow her life had been in her original time. It hadn’t been a bad life, but it hadn’t been fulfilling, either. Her eyes glazed over with tears that she fought to keep unshed, knowing that she couldn’t stay here any longer. The marks changed everything. Where there had been easy friendship was now this wall between them, and that cut her deeply. She could understand that he didn’t want to be chained down by some strange mark, she could respect that even. 

She just wished that their friendship hadn’t been destroyed in the process. 

She turned away from the sight of him, her stomach felt queasy and her legs felt unsteady. Her heart pounded in the base of her throat, and her hands shook ever so slightly. “I’ve been to Ceylon’s bluest coasts and back to Amsterdam. And conquered mighty swells with the just the line beneath my hands. And now I rest far in the north, a broken heart to lie. Forever under tattered sails, and ‘neath the blackened sky,” she whispered out, closing her eyes in mute despair. 

By tomorrow morn when they docked in London, Josephine would slip away while the boys drank and pissed away their coin. She would slip out like a ghost, never to be seen again. 

* * *

It was still before the early dawn when they docked, and the men wasted no time to go find a tavern that was open to spend some coin on drinks or on a lady of the night to give them a good time. Josephine lingered behind, not uncommon, and snuck into the captain’s quarters when she was sure everyone else was off the ship. She knew that Edward and Adéwalé would go through the treasures looted from their various plunders to equally divide the shares amongst the crew, and knew that somewhere there was lady’s clothing. She didn’t think the men had ever seen her in a dress, or anything remotely feminine, which made it the ideal disguise. With a hefty sigh, Josephine finally found a dress that would fit her and she began to shuck off her clothing with haste. 

She never imaged that Edward would walk in on her during mid-change, until it happened. 

There was a long beat of silence, where the two stared at each other. Both of them were taken aback by the situation, and Josephine could feel mortification heat up her cheeks and ears. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t find a lie that would help save her from this awkward moment. She was rooted to the spot, and felt helpless as a newborn calf. 

“Lass, what are you doing here?” Edward stared at her, his blue eyes hooded and the apple of his throat gave a shallow bob when he noticed her lack of clothing. His voice was thick and deep in a way that sent silky heat slid down across her skin like a caress, and she stood there, with her heart hammering in her chest. She hadn’t imagined that he would still be on board, and she held her chemise in front of her body, but the sheer fabric hid nothing. 

Her lips parted no answer fell from her mouth, only a soft breathless noise. The longer she stared at the handsome plane of his face, the more that she realized she didn’t want to leave with the sense of something unfinished, or undone. She wanted a full story, not a footnote. It was selfish to want to give into this desire when she knew Edward’s heart lay elsewhere, but staring at him now, she couldn’t imagine living without ever knowing what he tasted like on her tongue. She couldn’t imagine never feeling him in the most intimate and primal of ways, and she felt her hands trembled at her sides. These feelings and mark, it was the foundation for something more than friendship. It was the foundation for a powerful and timeless bond, but Edward had already found someone to bind his life to long before she had entered his life, which made the mark on wrist arm ache painfully. 

Whatever expression she had on her face made Edward’s gaze go intense, and then in three lengthy strides, he was across the cabin with his hand in her hair and lips colliding violently with hers, swallowing her needy moans. His kiss was hungry and possessive in a way that left her trembling, and he tasted like freedom and the ocean. The chemise fell down to the ground, forgotten and abandoned. There was fierce, sweetness in his kisses that made her melt against him, craving more and more. His free hand ran across her smooth upper thigh before he molded them around the curve of her hip, and dug dip to anchor her in place. His lips broke from her for the quickest of seconds, to whisper out the question, “Do you want this, Josephine? I need to hear you say it.” 

Josephine cupped his face between hers hands, and nodded, desperately. “I want this. I want you so much. Please,” she whispered, her breath fanning out against his lips. 

Edward kissed her again, trailing hot lips across the curve of her jaw and down the line of her throat. His hands left a scorching path against her skin, and he cupped her breast with a gentle pressure. His thumb skimmed against her dark nipple and she inhaled sharply. He repeated the motion, with a little more pressure and the blunt edge of his nail and she felt like she swallowed her tongue. Her breasts had always been very sensitive, and judging by the cocky smirk on the pirate’s face, he enjoyed this little discovery. 

“Oh, God,” Josephine whimpered, when he settled her along the edge of his desk and pressed himself against the apex of her thighs. She would have lied if she hadn’t fantasized about him, her and this desk more than few times. 

Edward smirked. “I’ll settle for you calling me Edward.” 

“You cheeky so—” Josephine’s voice was cut off when he dipped his head and enclosed his mouth around her nipple, suckling it sharply against his tongue. Her fingers dug into his arms, and she let out a low moan. 

He released it with a wet pop, and flashed his pearly whites at her. “What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out?” He teased, running his hands across her generous curves as if mapping out every inch of her body and committing it to memory. 

Josephine glared at him, her eyes nearly black with lust. “Clothes. Off. Now,” she demanded, tugging harshly at his tunic. She wanted to see him, to touch every inch of him just like he was with her. She had never imagined wanting this after all that she had gone through. Never thought that she could feel desire or be desirable, but this man seemed to awaken her in ways that she thought dead. Edward brought her to life, made her feel whole again and she wasn’t sure she would be able to live without him. She pushed the dismal thought away, determined to savor this one perfect moment for as long as she was able to. 

“As you wish,” Edward purred, wasting no time in indulging her request. His tunic was thrown hastily to the floor, and he unlaced his breeches with a finesse that made her all hot and bother. He had such skillful and beautiful hands, and her teeth catch her lower lip in an effort to hold back the groan that rattled up her throat as his length was freed from the confines of his leggings. She had known Edward had been greatly endowed, having caught sight of his manhood when he was bathing, but it was even more intimidating when it was full erect. He was uncircumcised, the foreskin of his penis had naturally retracted back, and Josephine found herself a bit curious about it to be perfectly honest. 

Her hand reached out, unabashed, and stroked him. The foreskin was supposed to be very sensitive, and she gently ran her thumb across it back and forth. She saw Edward’s jaw grow tight, and his breathing become a little uneven. He allowed her to explore him to her heart’s content, giving her control of his body in this moment. His shaft, if possible, swelled even more underneath her careful strokes and attention. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and she wanted nothing more than to take him in her mouth. Before she even got the chance to act on the impulse, Edward removed her hands from his shaft and pressed a hard kiss to the back of her knuckles. “You keep doing that, lass, then this won’t last as long as I want it to,” he told her, his voice hoarse with desire. He pressed kissed against her jawline, the feel of his beard against her soft skin made heat unfurl inside of her belly. 

She could already feel herself wet with arousal; the way she had touched him, watched his pleasure had turned her on in a way that she hadn’t expected and to have him touching her now, stroking her breasts then teasing his fingers down her stomach just increased the anticipation burning through her blood. She watched him, with hooded eyes as he lowered himself to his knees before her and pressed kissing down her body along the way. He wouldn’t do what she thought he was about to do, would he? 

_He was,_ she thought, her entire body arching into him when his mouth kissed her most sacred place. She had only experienced oral sex twice in her entire life. Her previous lovers had not been the giving time, and more of the taking type. Edward was definitely a giver, and he clearly enjoyed giving her the time of her life with the way his tongue licked up her slit without hesitation. He inhaled and groaned deeply, eating her out like he was a man starved and the only sustenance that could satisfy him was the dew pouring out of her womanly well. Her fingernails dug into the desk beneath her, and she was pretty sure the map that was underneath her was probably ruined. 

She couldn’t care less with the way he pleasured her. Her head was thrown backwards, her dark curls fell down along her shoulders in wild abandon and her large breasts heaved with each desperate gulp of air that she sucked in through her lips. She couldn’t have known how beautiful she looked to Edward in that moment; she was a stunning ebony goddess that thrived and lived off the pleasurable bounty that her sycophants gave her to her, and Edward was more than willing to worship at her alter for the rest of his life if he could. His fingers—one by one until three pumped inside of her—opened and stretched her walls, the initial burn soothed into pleasure by the special attention he paid to her clit, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it around on his tongue. 

It was becoming too much. She could feel herself being pulled closer and closer to the edge, and then the mark of his wrist was pressed against her upper thigh. It _burned_ against her skin causing a rainbow of colors to flash between her eyes, the pleasure that had been coiling up inside of her stomach ignited sharply and she came all over Edward’s tongue and fingers in one of the most intense orgasms of her life. When her arm—with the same mark—grasped at his shoulder, it caused a backlash as if the ecstasy had been shot from a slingshot, bouncing back and forth between them, extending the high and making the feelings there even more potent before. A scream tore through her throat, and she could barely contain the way her body twitched and shook in the glorious aftermath of his ministrations. 

Josephine knew Edward felt it too, with the way his body shuddered and all his muscled bunched together as if he fought to maintain control of himself. She watched the veins pulse along his throat, and her breath caught tight in her lungs when those burning blue eyes clashed with hers. Whatever was happening was undoing them both, and in the same moment, making them whole. “I…I want…” She struggled to form a coherent sentence, and her eyes darted down to his shaft that glistened with precum. “I want to taste you...” 

“Next time,” he promised, pulling his fingers free from her fluttering sheath. 

Josephine opened her mouth to tell him that this was going to be their only time, but her words were silenced with a kiss. She could taste her essence on him, and she eagerly speared her tongue between his lips. He groaned deeply at her display of dominance, and met her kiss with equal ferocity. She trembled with eagerness when the tip of his shaft pressed against her slit. With a surprisingly steady hand, he pressed the tip of his cock through her folds, rubbing it against her slickness and throbbing clit before he lined it up with her entrance. 

Her entire world narrowed down into the way his body melded into her, inch by inch he pushed himself deeper into slick heat and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, needing something to hold onto as a torrid of sensations slashed through her. The heat coiled between them seemed to sizzle along her skin, and her hips arched upper until he cradled completely by her thighs. Josephine felt her chest rise and fall with each air she drew in through her clenched teeth, and her head was pressed back against the hard wood of his desk. His body covered hers, his head bent down to nip at her pulse when he rolled his hips experimentally forward. A soft moan rattled through her, and her hips bucked, encouraging him to do that again. 

His hand molded to her breasts, groping and massaging the globes that sent spikes of pleasure straight to her core and she clenched around his thick shaft. She was no idle in their lovemaking, meeting his hips thrust for thrust and establish a delicious rhythm between them. Her hands anchored to her back, and their marks brushed each other every other seconds send tendrils of pain and pleasure along their nerve endings like music. 

And together they danced, until the music drew to a crescendo. Edward drew her left thigh up over his arm, changing the angle of his thrust and the tip of his cock slammed into a place inside of her that drew a desperate plea off her lips. “Please, Edward, I’m so close…” She begged, and he pulled out to slam into her again, striking that same spot with an accuracy that left her breathless. Two more thrusts and she shuddered from head to toe, with an orgasm. The way her body clenched tightly up his shaft made his rhythm stuttered, and he started to drive wildly into her, until he pulled himself out of her body and his cock spilled his hot release along her stomach and inner thighs. 

Edward braced his arms on, either side of her head to not drop his entire body weight on her and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. “Woman, what have you done to me?” He murmured out, his voice ragged and raw. 

Funny enough, Josephine wanted to ask him the same thing. She watched Edward lean up, brushing her hair slicked with sweat from her brow and he pressed a gentle and soft kiss to her lips. After he regained use of his legs and arms, Edward lifted Josephine up off the desk and took her down below to his bedroom. He cleaned her off with a cloth, and then slipped into the bedding beside her, drawing her up to his chest. He held her tightly as if he had no intention of ever letting her go, and Josephine knew she couldn’t stay here with him. 

But for a few moments, until he slipped into a deep sleep… 

She allowed herself to pretend. 

* * *

London was a dangerous place for someone like her. Britain was involved in the tri-continental slave trade between Europe, Africa, and the Americas. But it was not entirely uncommon for free people of color to live here, though they were mostly reduced to begging on the streets. There was a great lack of jobs and an obvious racial discrimination that ran rampant through the English society. Josephine sneered at the advertisements that had been down by slave traders that portrayed people like her as if they were little more than animals, and her stomach burned white hot at the injustice of it all. She crept along the streets, with her shawl wrapped tightly around her and avoided people like the plague. 

It had been three days since she left Edward’s embrace and did not look back. 

Not to say that she didn’t think about going back, but she told herself that it was far too late, that Edward had probably sailed far away by now. A pirate’s life couldn’t be halted for one runaway, and her heart felt heavy in her chest. She bought a loaf of bread that was stale, and fought hard not to snap back at the store owner when he called her a rude term when her back was turned. She swallowed down her anger, knowing that she couldn’t fight every idiot that she came across. In this time, there were more than a few and she needed to keep her head clear to figure out what to do from here. 

As she was walking down the streets, Josephine found herself drawn to a disturbance. 

It was a black woman, begging bystanders for coin or food. Clutching at her tattered and old skirt was a little boy no more than four years old, who hid his face away from the world clearly terrified by the people who passed them without so much as a glance. Josephine felt emotions swell up in the back of her throat, sorrow that they had been reduced to live this way and anger at the apathy of the people who just walked by without even giving them a single glance. Out of a crowd of ten, a young man was the only one that stopped to press a coin into the beggar woman’s hand and whisper a word of kindness before he was dragged off by his father who rather displeased with his son’s generosity. 

Josephine found herself crossing the street, and standing before the woman before she knew what she was doing. For a second, she was dumbstruck and stared into the face of a woman who looked so much like her. She knew this face, had seen the same wild despair reflected back in her own gaze when she first got sent back to this time, and she found herself giving the woman the loaf of bread that she had bought. It was through the Yamasee’s kindness that she had lived and survived, and learned that people sometimes just needed a helping hand. “It is not much, but it should help,” she told the woman, handing over her money pouch. There was not a lot left, because she didn’t dare take too much from the Jackdaw. “Are you often harassed when you are out here on the streets?” 

The woman didn’t answer, seemingly boggled that she had gotten aid from two strangers in the matter of minutes. “I—I, yes. The bobbies don’t like beggars. We are often forced into alleyways where…where bad things happen,” the mother explained, giving the bread to her son without thinking to take a bite for herself. “Eat slowly, Isa. You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t.” 

Isa nodded, nibbling on the bread and savoring each bite with relish that made Josephine’s heart shatter even further. 

“Thank you for this,” the woman added, with tears in her eyes. “I…I never expected to find such kindness…I hoped, but…” 

Josephine retrieved a spare dagger from her purse. “Take this. You have a right to defend yourself and your child. Your lives are _important_ and _matter_. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” she told the woman, wishing she was better able to help them. If she had the money and means, she would shelter all the lost and wandering souls left out on the streets, but she did not. She would have to settle for doing what she could, where she could. She parted ways with the mother and child, with a knot still wedged tightly in the back of her throat. 

It was about a half an hour later that Josephine felt the hair on the nape of her neck stand up on end, and she felt like she was being watched. She glanced around the streets, but saw no one looking or paying her any great mind. Her heart pounded in her chest, and then for some inexplicable reason she found her gaze raise upward. 

Her heart stopped. 

Against the cloudy sky, she saw a familiar silhouette on a nearby building and sucked in a hard breath. She turned on her heels, and rushed away. She didn’t know why she was running. Alright, that was a lie. She was afraid. She was afraid to face him, face the feelings that they had given into and face the inevitability that they could not be together. She didn’t get very far before a shadow descended from the heaven, and with a loud thud, Edward landed in her path. 

She skidded to a stop, startled at the sight of him. He looked like he had barely slept, and looked more rough around the edges than usual. The look that he gave her made her stomach clench uneasily, and her hands balled up into fists at her side. 

“Why did you run away?” Edward demanded, hotly. 

Josephine swallowed. “Does it matter?” 

“Of course it does!” He snapped, his eyes narrowed. “You are my friend, a part of my crew, and most recently my lover! Or have you conveniently forgotten all of that because I have not!” 

“Edward, I—” 

Edward stalked forward, his hands reached out only to drop at his side when she tensed up. He turned his gaze away from her for a good long moment, and drew in deep breath to calm himself before he looked back at her. His blue eyes were intense and harsh, demanding answers of her that she could not give. “I feared for you when I woke up and you were gone. None of the crew had seen you, and with the slave trade rampant here I had thought…” He cut off, running his hand through his hair and closed his eyes tightly. “I had thought you had been captured or worse.” 

Guilt gnawed at her gut. “Edward, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Josephine faltered, her shoulders slumped. “I just couldn’t stay on the Jackdaw anymore. These marks, the way they affected us and our friendship…it was just too much. I couldn’t live like that, and I had to leave. I’m sorry that I made you worry. I just didn’t see any other way…” 

“That’s what you were doing that night in my cabin. You were planning on running away even before we—” The Captain of the Jackdaw shook his head, and his blue eyes slid open. He regarded her carefully, like one might a wounded animal that they didn’t want to startle and cause it to run away. “It was my fault. I caused damage to our friendship because I was trying to make sure that these marks didn’t…didn’t force something you didn’t want. I didn’t want to be another person that hurt you.” 

“Edward, you could never be like that,” Josephine whispered out, her heart hurting that he would think of himself in such a manner. 

“I thought that myself, but when we discovered our marks—when I touched yours, I almost entirely lost control that night. It enhanced the feelings I already had for you, and drove any common sense out of my brain entirely. If Adéwalé hadn’t been there to break that spell, I don’t know what I could have done to you and it terrified me,” Edward admitted, shame etched into all his features. “I pushed you away because I never wanted to be that type of monster. You are too important to me, and the thought that I could lose control and hurt you was like a blade to my gut.” 

Josephine’s mind was in a tail spin. She placed a hand over her heart, that slammed against her ribs so painfully and she felt her composure slip at the emotional admission he had just given. “Important?” She breathed out the word like she didn’t know the meaning of it. “I’m important to you?” 

“Have you not realized that by now?” Edward looked at her with this soulful and piercing gaze. “Lass, I never thought I could love again after the things that I have been through. I never dared to dream that life would put such a beautiful, resilient and amazingly selfless woman in my path such as yourself, but you came into my life like a riptide and pulled me under. You stole my breath right out of me, and then taught me how to breathe anew. How can you not see how much I admire you?” 

Josephine lifted a trembling hand to her mouth to hold back the emotions that rose inside of her. She didn’t understand what to do with his confession, but her heart longed for her to give into him. A sheen of tears made her caramel eyes appear like molten honey, and she stared at him with a wounded expression. “Edward, I…I can’t do this. You’re married, and it was wrong to do what we did the other night in your cabin,” she whispered out, with a shaky voice. “I can’t live like that. I can’t live being your mistress and only having half of your heart, and being a placeholder for someone else. Please don’t ask me to live like that.” 

“I’m divorced, lass,” Edward stated, after she fell silent. 

Josephine paused, her pain momentarily broke by the unexpected response. “What?” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy sigh. “She divorced me a few years back,” Edward explained, with an exhausted tone in his voice. “She got tired of waiting on me, and had given me up for dead. She was already engaged to another man when I dared to travel back after I started to be a pirate and an assassin. She did not want to be a bigamist, and begged me for a divorce—something not taken very lightly by a catholic woman, and I realized she must truly love this man to go to such lengths. I was heartbroken, that was for sure. She was my first love after all. It is hard to realize that the life you always dreamed of would never come to be, and that your son would be raised by another man.” 

She drew in a sharp breath, trying to process that information and how this new revelation left her unsteady. “I had no idea that you had a child,” she stated, focusing on that. That seemed like the safer options. To speak of his divorce meant acknowledge the fact that he was a single man and that could lead to such traitorous thoughts about giving into these feelings. It terrified her, this feeling of love and longing she felt for Edward. 

“Neither did I until she finally told me,” Edward said, raking a hand through his blond hair. “I tried to do right by Haytham. I visited when I could and sent letters to him, but my former wife thought it best to not continue. She said that he would just be confused given that he always thought of her new husband, Erik, as his father and not me. He’d be just becoming a young man now of thirteen, and some days, I wonder if he resents the fact that I chose this life over him—over my family.” 

“You chose sailing to give them a better life,” Josephine told him, the rest of ire melting away. 

“Did I?” Edward asked, with a bitter sort of smile. “Or did I choose an easy way out of a life that I found constricting? I look back on it now, and I can’t tell. Maybe I’m just more cynical than I once was and can’t see the man I used to be, the man full of good intentions and who made every mistake he could.” His blue eyes lifted from the ground, and he looked at her with an intense and serious gaze. “I don’t intend to make the same mistake with you.” 

“With me?” Josephine blinked, startled by the change in his posture. 

“I can’t make up for the people I’ve left and hurt before. The past is written and it cannot be undone. But the future is still yet to be written, and I would have those words say that you are by my side until the very end,” Edward stated, taking a couple of steps forward only to halt when she took one step back. He dragged the palm of his hand roughly across his short cut beard, and his jaw was set tight. “I didn’t just let you join my crew because you killed some slavers. I let you join my crew because I saw your heart—bright and burning, filled with a passion and a need to make the world a better place. I saw a woman who has gone through too much pain done to her by ignorant and cruel people who can’t appreciate her beauty and her intelligence or even come close to matching it. You deserve so much that this world has denied you, you deserve someone to cherish and love you.” 

“And you think that’s you?” Josephine said, her voice trembled ever so slightly. 

“If you will let me,” Edward whispered out. “Please, Josephine, let me.” 

Josephine felt a couple of dear roll down her cheeks, and she sniffled lightly, looking at his outstretched hand. There were moments that defined a person’s life. A few choices that could drastically alter the course of their existence, and this felt like one of those choices. With her heart on her sleeve, Josephine reached out and slid her hand into his. The sheer relief that passed through Edward’s eyes made her heart ached inside of her and he pulled her into his embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her. 

And this time, Josephine didn’t have to pretend. She knew that she could rest here for the rest of her days, and she buried her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. Here in his arms, she had finally found home. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Chris Hemsworth is my ideal Edward Kenway. Just saying. So how did I do? Please be honest.  
> (Btw, the beggar woman and her child in my head cannon are some of Josephine’s ancestors. This detail isn’t overly important in the whole scheme of things, but when writing it, that’s what my heart told my brain was the connection and importance of that moment. That without Josephine’s interference they would not have survived, and Josephine wouldn’t have been born)  
> AC Timeline “Persephone Chalice” for this story: Edward left his wife in 1720 (in AC canon it was 1715) but the events of the game remain the same regardless of this adjust in timeline. Haytham was born in 1721, and in 1726 Edward returned and eventually gave his wife the divorce. Haytham was in his late twenties/early thirties when he met Zio, and mid-fifties when the Revolutionary War breaks out. ***This is obviously deviation from cannon, but I don’t see how it would upset the AC cannon too greatly.***  
> The Children of Eden: Raelyn and Josephine just like the other Original Characters are descendants of Adam and Eve. It in my series cannon that the Children of Eden are drawn to each other, compelled to be friends and have close sibling-like bonds. Not every Children of Eden will know each other, but will eventually. (Also side note, the reason Josephine isn’t mentioned in passing by Raelyn in the “Desert Flower” story is that Josephine was created after that story was already written and posted.)  
> Yamasee: an indigenous group of people to the Americas that lived along the eastern coast. In the 1700s hundred, due to the many groups trying to populate and conquer America they were forced to move close to Charles Town, South Carolina. They were part of the deer skin trade, but were often taken advantage by the settlers. The settlers would demand women and children to sell at the market if the natives owed them for guns and others supplies. For ten years, the Yamasee endured this until finally they revolted. The Yamasee war a brutal conflict that involved almost all the native tribes, and a lot of bloodshed.  
> Circumcision: It wasn’t introduced into English society for medical purposes until the late 1800s in England so it is highly likely that Edward Kenway was not circumcised, or any Assassin before him unless their religion had dictated such. (Bet you wish you could unlearn that) It just feels silly to not mention that a modern woman—who has been sexually active before—to not notice the differences. Or maybe I’ve just gone overboard on making this as historically accurate as possible, and in the process have scarred myself, so you readers must feel my pain.  
> A History of England, 1700-1800s: Unlike how the movies portray England during the 1700s to 1800s (and making London all whitewashed) there was a marked growth in black presence in the northern, eastern and southern areas of London. The tri-continental slave trade was mostly responsible for that. Black slaves were attendants to sea captains and ex-colonial officials as well as traders, military personal and more. The free people of color were mostly homeless and beggars due to the lack of jobs and the racial discrimination that was heavily embedded into the society of London at that time. Even when dealing with the law, blacks were treated unfairly due to the color of their skin. (Example: Sunday 1 May 1737 Anne Godfrey complains about have linens stolen. George Scipio was accused, and the case hinged on the fact of whether or not Scipio was the only black man in Hackney at the time.) In 1750s, a big shift started to happen in England. There was propaganda spread by slave sale advertisements to imply that black people were less than human, in order to keep these people which by now had a healthy presence in London from achieving rights that any free person should have. Activists such as Olaudah Equiano, Ignatius Sancho, and Quobna Ottobah Cugoano challenged this, and demanded that blacks be freed from slavery. Along with other Britons, mostly comprised of workers and other nationalities of the urban poor. Slavery was abolished in England in 1833, which made the purchase or ownership of slaves illegal within the British Empire.


End file.
